Do not cry, little girl
by DragonsDeadAndDancing
Summary: He said one word that changed me forever. For a long, long time it was the light in my life, joy and safety and love, things I never had before. "Miraak." Spoilers for Main Quests of Skyrim and Dragonborn. Updated.
1. Chapter 1

**To every Miraak lover out there and those who will become one! I had this idea because Miraak appeared and stole a dragon soul. Of course I was angry, but then I started thinking…**

**I'm not done with the quest line yet, so I apologize for lore mistakes. I know how it will end, but not exactly.**

**I have no idea when the Civil War started. In this story, it's 197.**

**Miraak, Skyrim and nearly everything else belongs to Bethesda. Oh, and the chant is from watch?v=r4FtAP1bw3c. Creepy video.**

**Enjoy.**

I still remember the first time he came to me. I was seven, and the other children in Riverwood had spit at me and laughed and chased me away, because my mother died during my birth and my father was a soldier who left after one night with her and I lived with my grandmother in the woods. So I ran in the forest, to a small pond. I washed the spit from my face and then I started to cry. I cried a lot when I was young.

"Do not cry, little girl", a voice behind me said. I turned around.

A man stood there. He wore strange clothes in dark brown-green and a golden mask. Today I can say it looks like hanging tentacles. Back then it was just strange. Not a tiny part of his skin was exposed and he seemed to shine a little bit.

I wiped the tears off my face and tried to stop the coming ones. It was hard, but somehow I didn't want him to see me weak.

"Do not cry", he said again, softer this time.

"Why?" I had a lot of reasons to cry.

"Because one day we shall fight and I do not want to kill a woman I remember as a weeping girl."

"I don't want to fight."

"No? Then you will fall to your knees and wait for the death blow when your time has come?"

This man…he talked about fighting and killing like the farmers talked about the seed. "Who are you?", I asked.

He said one word that changed me forever. For a long, long time it was the light in my life, joy and safety and love, things I never had before.

"Miraak."

"Miraak", I repeated, tasting the word. "Mir-aak. Mi-raak. Mira-ak." I liked its sound.

"And who are you?"

I told him my name and I think he smiled under his golden mask. "That sounds beautiful", he said. After a moment, he added, "You do not cry anymore."

He was right. The sound of his name had stopped the tears.

"Why are you alone in the forest?"

I felt sad again. "The others treat me bad."

"Why?"

"I don't have parents. They say my mother was a whore and I am a bastard and it was my fault she died."

"They are liars. I knew a lot of liars. Most of them are dead now…"

"Are you dead?" An adventurer had once told a story about a ghost and it sounded like Miraak was one too. He wasn't blue, and I couldn't see through him, but he glowed a little bit. And he somehow sounded old. Like he was born a thousand thousand years ago.

"Maybe. A little bit."

"How can you be 'a little bit' dead?"

"This is a long story, little girl, and a sad one."

"Do you know other stories?"

"A lot."

"Tell me!" I sat down next to the pond and he did the same and he told me stories until the light left the sky.

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It was dark when I came home that evening. My grandmother was furious. "Where have you been?", she screamed.

"In the forest."

"Alone."

"No. I met a man. His name is Mir-a-ak"-I loved this word-"and he taught me a poem." It was not really a poem, but it kind of sounded like one if I spoke it in the right rhythm. And Miraak had just whispered it once.

Here in my temple

Here in my shrine

That you have forgotten

Here do you toil

That you might remember

Here you reclaim

What faithless minds have stolen

Far from yourself

I grow ever nearer to you

Your eyes once were blinded

Now through me do you see

Your hands once were idle

Now through them do I speak

And when the world shall listen

And when the World shall see

And when the world remembers

That world will cease to be.

I did not know what it means. Today I do, and I can understand why my grandmother gave me the worst beating in my short life.

Later I was lying in the bed. Every part of my body ached. The pain didn't let me sleep. Before this day, I would have sobbed in the small pillow, but I bit back the tears. Because of one word…

As if my thoughts had summoned him, he suddenly sat next to me on the heap of hay I called "bed". His soft glow lighted the tiny chamber, just a little bit.

"Hello, little girl."

"Miraak!" I screamed in delight and would have jumped to my feet, had my limbs not hurt that much.

"Shh. She cannot hear me, but your voice is as loud as ever. Be careful."

"I don't care about her. I hate her!"

He seemed amused. "What does a little girl like you know of hate?"

"Why are you here?"

"I was…worried."

"Nobody is worried about me."

For a moment he hesitated. Then he said: "I am."

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Miraak was at my side for the next years. He visited me regularly. When I was young, this would be once or twice in a week, but soon he came every day. Sometimes he stayed only for a few minutes, but we often spent hours and hours together.

He taught me and I learned. I learned how to run faster and how to cast spells, how to hunt and to fight. He taught me how to shoot with a bow and how to make my own arrows. He could not show me himself because he could touch nothing, but his voice was all I needed.

Some lessons, about secrets, the people from Riverwood taught me. I learned that others could not see him. I learned that talking to him in public caused the others calling me "mad bastard" instead of "filthy bastard". I learned that nobody knew his name, and that telling people – even grown-ups – about him would lead to a beating.

When I was about twenty, a proper woman, he left for some time. After a year he came back, but he seemed distracted and sad. He said that "the End" was coming.

All the years, he kept talking about us fighting. One day, he always said, he would kill me and he would regret it, but it was necessary for him. I did not doubt it. This was Miraak, and his words were always true.

On my twenty-third birthday, I woke up in the dawn. I silently stood up, dressed, took my knapsack and walked out in the morning light. Miraak was already waiting for me. "Happy Birthday, little girl", he greeted me in his usual manner, although I no longer was a girl.

"Hello, Miraak." I stood next to him and we watched the rising sun over the trees.

After a while, he asked: "Where are you going?"

"I'll go to Windhelm. I want to fight for Ulfric Stormcloak."

"Why?" He did not try to talk me out of it. But he played the same game as in our training: He forced me to think, to question my decisions.

"Because", I said, preparing for presenting the arguments I had thought about yesterday evening, "he fights for the freedom. Ulfric Stormcloak wants Skyrim and her people, to which I belong, to be free. And he is strong. Rumours say that he killed Torygg with his voice-what?"

Miraak had started to laugh. "Oh, it is nothing. You would not understand. Please go on, little girl."

With a last suspicious look – was he laughing at me? -, I continued: "And I want to practice what you have taught me in the last sixteen years. Hacking at bushes with sticks is alright for a farmer, but I never wanted to stay in Riverwood. What do I have here?"

Nothing. My grandmother was old and weak, but she was a good healer and the people would look after her because they needed her skills. And all the men and women in the town would hardly miss me. Maybe they would even be a little bit proud of me, like of Ralof and Hadvar…

"Are you sure, little girl?"

I was surprised. Miraak never tried to convince me not to do something, no matter how stupid it was. "Yes."

"Your life would be easier if you would stay."

"My life was never easy."

He nodded. "Then it is settled. Do you wish company on your way to Windhelm?"

"Always, Miraak. Don't leave me."


	2. Chapter 2

**This took long. Too long. I'm awful. Don't hire the Dark Brotherhood!**

**I hope I got the style again. If not, then it's just character development. Wrote it while listening Castle of Glass.**

Four years later, on a morning in autumn, I sat on a cart and waited to die.

After I had donned Stormcloak blue, life had become better. Although I was young, I was good at fighting and even at killing. Miraak was always at my side, strong and steady. In battle, his shouts saved my life more than once – "Behind you!", "Watch out!", "Arrow!", "Strike! Now!" – and when it was over, his whispers drove the men I had slain from my dreams.

My comrades were just like the children from Riverwood. I tried to make friends with them, but eventually gave up. Miraak was the only person I could talk to, and after half a year in the army, I didn't care about other people being present any more. I was stronger than in Riverwood; they could not beat me and their insults didn't hurt that much. According to Galmar Stone-Fist, the soldiers were calling me 'Ice-Vein'. I was pretty sure he was either nice or deaf; 'Ice-Brain' was more likely my title. As good as I was – I never got my own commands but served under others, mostly in the vanguard when we attacked forts. This had been my first escorting mission and would be my last.

We were ten soldiers to bring Ulfric Stormcloak out of the country. We failed completely. At Darkwater Crossing, the Imperials had laid a trap, and we walked into it like dumb beasts. Half of us were slain before the Jarl told us to yield.

Helgen was not far away. Our trip would soon come to an end. Our lives too.

On my cart were three men. Leif had already passed out; he would probably be dead when we reached our destination. The steady trickle of blood from his maimed shoulder had nearly faded and he was paler then the snow. Gunjar whispered prayer after prayer. Soren looked calm, but his eyes betrayed him. He didn't notice that he had bitten on his lip so hard that tiny red drops mixed with the already half-dried blood from the huge gash on his forehead.

I tried to pray. After four years fighting in Talos' name I probably ought to know a few prayers. But my head was empty. So I settled on the old sing-song:

Here in my temple

Here in my shrine…

"You will not die today, little girl."

I smiled at him. "You haven't ever lied to me, Miraak. Don't start now."

Soren stared at me angrily. "Damn you! Can't you stop that nonsense? This Maki or whatever doesn't exist. At least on the day of our death you could leave us alone with this madness. Sheogorath take you!"

Miraak ignored him. He sat between me and half-dead Leif. "I never lie. You will live past this day."

I sighed but didn't answer. Instead I looked at the sky. We had been caught in the middle of the night and now the dawn came. While the carriage rocked under me, I watched the rising sun. Ruby red, then pink and finally gold touched the grey clouds above and a few rays of light even broke through them. A good day to die.

We drove through the woods and then, just as the gold faded, we came to Helgen. It was an old, small village at the foot of the Throat of the World. Due to its thick walls and huge fort, it had always been an Imperial outpost, even more important than Dragonsbridge. Riverwood was only a few miles away.

I looked around. Some of the faces I knew from my childhood. Ingrid with the golden hair, whom Ralof had had a crush on. Vilod, owner of a small meadery. He sold his products only in Helgen and Riverwood. Matlara and Torolf, with their son Haming. All stared at us with an impossible hatred.

We stopped and a soldier called one name after the other. Leif didn't get up again.

At the second cart – it held Ralof, Ulfric Stormcloak, a frightened Khajiit and a horse thief – chaos started. The thief tried to run away, but three arrows hit him in the back. After a moment, the routine returned – names, notes, execution place.

Suddenly, I heard a noise. A distant roar, like something had just been freed. Others turned their heads as well. I rose my glance to the sky, some instinct told me to look up there for the source of the sound.

"So the end begins", murmured Miraak. "I have to go now, little girl."

"Wait…" But he had already vanished.

Although this was my execution, I didn't pay attention to the priestess' words. Instead I searched the blue above for the roaring beast. Soren's voice brought me back to reality: "Come on, I don't have all morning!"

He kneeled down in front of the wooden block, and while the Imperial general forced his upper body down, he grinned at her defiantly: "My ancestors smile down at me, Imperial. Can you say the same?" The axe silenced his quick tongue with a sickening crunch forever.

Next was the Khajiit, a female with huge, frightened looking blue eyes and fur in the colour of winter's light. Soren's blood seeped into it as she laid her trembling head on the wood. The axe fell, her tail twitched a last time and it was over.

The life of Ralof – he was from Riverwood, like me and Hadvar, who stood next to the general – would find his end now. Head up, back straight, he walked to the block like a true Nord.

He never reached it.

The roar thundered again, not far away but deafening and – above! The winds of the beast's wings hit me as it landed on the tower. The screams of the guards and my thoughts said the same:

A dragon!

**Cliffhanger! This was short, but at least I managed to post it today. Sorry sorry sorry for all delay. Half-year-break starts in a week, I'll get a new chapter!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the delay.**

The beast was huge. Grey-black scales covered its whole body, save for the wide wings. Spikes and horns jutted out from its scarred hide. In its head, two eyes gleamed hot and red, and when they met mine, my soul felt scorched by the ancient rage and power they held.

Suddenly Miraak stood next to me. "Run!", he screamed. And then the impossible happened: The dragon's fiery gaze left me and fixed on the man. It let out another roar, but it didn't sound like a beast's cry. No, this were…words?

"Run!", Miraak shouted again as stones started to rain out of nowhere. "To the tower, now!"

I followed him to the huge building while the ground shuddered beneath me. Or were it my knees? I tried to focus on survival for now; my sanity was a minor problem.

Inside the tower, I met Jarl Ulfric and Ralof, who scowled when he saw me. He was from Riverwood too and used to treat me pretty bad, like everyone else. Still, he cut my bonds with a small dagger. I paid my respects and thanks to the Jarl, who didn't listen to me but discussed the dragon matter with Ralof.

Rubbing my chafed wrists, I turned to Miraak, who was staring out of the entrance. "What was this beast?"

"Later", he answered absent-minded.

"Tell me! Was it a dragon? Why could it see you?"

"Alduin."

My eyes widened. _...And the Scrolls have foretold, of black wings in the cold, that come unfurled when brothers wage war. Alduin, bane of kings, ancient shadow unbound, with a hunger to swallow the world. …_ "No…"

"Yes. I'll tell you more later, but you have to get out of here." With these words he vanished.

Ulfric and Ralof stared at me. "Sorry", I said.

"We have to leave Hel-" The Jarl was interrupted by loud rumbling from above, followed by mortal and dragon's screams, and the sound of flames. When it had been replaced by groans and the scent of burned flesh, I dared to sneak upstairs. The soldiers wouldn't give us problems anymore.

The men followed me. "You", the Jarl said, "jump through the inn and try to get out of here. If we don't meet again, make your way to Windhelm and report to Galmar. We can't stop now."

They were sending me away. I didn't like it, but this was my King. I had sworn to obey him. "Talos guide you!", I said as I jumped out of the huge hole in the wall the dragon had made with his head. Somehow I managed to get through the roof, land on my feet, and with little burns and scratches I left the building. I blinked and tried to find the exit.

"Come", said Miraak and we ran down the street. I kept looking at the sky, in case the dragon came again.

And he did. Alduin landed on the ground between two houses. Miraak vanished and I threw myself on the floor behind a building, along with a boy, an old man and – Hadvar? I had no time to wonder about the games the Nine played with me today, for the beast screamed fire in our direction. Again I wasn't able to understand his words properly.

When the dragon decided to look for prey elsewhere, we rose to our feet. "Still alive?", asked the man from Riverwood who had sided with the Imperials when the Civil War had started.

"Thanks to him", I said with a smile and pointed at the sky. The man looked guilty for a second or two, but then he turned around and ran. Since I had no better idea and Miraak was still absent, I followed him. If Alduin came down again, Hadvar could be a nice distraction.

I made my way through a small passage between a wall and a burning building. Suddenly a shadow passed overhead and the dragon landed. He screamed fire on the street. His right wing, resting on the wall, was so close to me. More out of instinct than of wanting I stretched out my hand and touched the black-grey skin. It was cool but not cold, soft but still firm, scarred and jagged but somehow smooth, all at the same time. In this moment, the realisation finally hit me: This was not a dream. This was real. I wasn't mad.

The dragon was real.

Alduin turned his head and looked at me for a second, then he took flight again with a strange motion – like a shrug. Air and dust hit me in the face, clouded my vision and made my cough.

I just have a black hole after that. There are some pictures but nothing one would count as memory. Fire. Arrows in the air. Screams. Men burning, dying, snatched up and torn apart in the air by wings and claws and jaws. More fire. So much fire.

The next I can clearly remember is Ralof's voice saying my name over and over again. I looked up from my shaking hands and he sighed relieved. "I thought you would pass out. Can you continue? I'd like to get to Riverwood soon."

"Was it real? Did you see that", I was too frightened to say 'dragon' or 'Alduin', so I just jerked my head towards Helgen, "too?"

Ralof's expression softened. "Yeah. I guess I saw a huge flying scaly thing as well."

"Good. Good."

"We have to go on. Riverwood is near. You have a shock. Do you understand?"

"Yes…"

With his help, I managed to stand up and walk next to him on wobbly feet towards home. On the way, my mind cleared a little bit.

"Is the king well?"

"Yes. I brought him out and then went back to search for other Stormcloak survivors. You were the only one I found."

"Why didn't you leave me behind?"

"What?"

"I'm not stupid. I know what people say about me."

"You're a sister-in-arms. We look after each other."


	4. Chapter 4

**Can it be real? Can it be true? Yes. You don't have hallucinations from all the Skooma for it…is…an UPDATE!**

**(I'd put an apology for the incredible time it took me to write this here but you know I'm not sorry :P)**

Gerdur took one look at us – Ralof with his dirty, torn, singed armour; me, still trembling with shock, clinging to his side – and ushered us into the house. A few moments later both of us were sitting next to the fire, wrapped in blankets and holding mugs with mead. While Hod was drawing us a bath, Gerdur listened to Ralof telling our story and her son – Frodnar? – was looking at us curiously. I gladly let him do the talking, stared into the flames and took the time to recall the events of the last day.

_A dragon has attacked Helgen and burned it down._

_The dragon was able to see Miraak._

_Miraak says the dragon is Alduin, which probably means the world is about to end._

_I'm still alive._

The last point actually surprised me the most. If Ralof had made it out of Helgen alive with me as a dead weight, a lot more people must have survived as well…

"What?" I asked as someone said my name. Automatically I added: "Sorry."

I flinched as Gerdur shot me the same look as when we were children. As if we were still five and her mother had just told her to play nice.

"We'd thought as Riverwood has no defence against a dragon one of us could inform the Jarl of Whiterun," Ralof explained.

'One of us' obviously meant 'you' in that case. Well, I could understand them. "I'll do it," I volunteered. "But could I stay until tomorrow? I think I need a good night's rest after…" I left the sentence unfinished. It was still hard to even think about it, let alone speak it out loud. Even today I have problems talking about the day I met Alduin.

Gerdur reluctantly let me stay. In some sudden outburst of courtesy Ralof offered to accompany me part of the way – he'd go back to Windhelm – and even let me bathe first. Afterwards we got a plain but filling meal and then…well, I just fell asleep after that. Knocked out by Vaermina's Skull of Corruption.

I woke for dinner and then I tried to repair my armour. The fur boots and gloves looked as shaggy as ever but the body armour was pretty ripped – not that it had been of much quality to begin with. It was guard armour, just some padding between thin leather. A bolt of cloth, once of a vibrant blue colour, was slung somehow over the chest to indicate I belonged to Eastmarch's army. That I tore off – Whiterun was officially neutral but only a truly mad Stormcloak would walk through the streets without disguise.

Finally I had some brown chestpiece with three crudely mended gashes interrupting the quilted diamond pattern. It looked as if it wouldn't save me from a blow with a wooden training sword but that armour had kept me alive for the last four years and would hopefully hold a bit longer.

Only when I was lying in my bed again I noticed Miraak hadn't returned.

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Ralof woke me at dawn from dreams in which dragons with the faces of the Riverwood people were trying to rip me apart while Miraak lectured me about the ingredients for paralytic potion in Sload.

I was rather happy to wake up.

Departure was silent. Gerdur gave us knapsacks filled with some cheese and bread. I put my blue cloth into mine as well, put on my armour, searched for my helmet, remembered I had none, wondered where I'd gotten that iron sword from, and decided it didn't really matter.

Gerdur was hugging Ralof a last time when little Frodnar had finally gathered enough courage to ask me: "Are you really crazy?"

That earned him a pat on the back of his neck from his father. I decided not to answer, just to stand around awkwardly and look for other interesting things. Apparently there were still hawks nesting in the old fir tree, and Delphine still owned the Sleeping Giant inn. She nodded in my direction and began sweeping the porch.

Finally sister, broth-in-law, and nephew had said their good-byes and Ralof was ready to leave. The road to Whiterun was empty and we didn't talk until…

"Wolf!" At Ralof's cry I drew my sword but I was too slow – heavy jaws closed around my left wrist, and long white teeth shredded my gauntlet. I slashed the beast across its shoulder and it jumped back, ripping deep gashes in my flesh. I screamed in pain and lunged for the animal again, hitting it at the snout. The wolf tried to attack me from the side – and ran in Ralof's way. His axe quickly silenced the snarling beast.

"Are you okay?" Ralof asked.

I nodded. I was fine, at least after a quick spell, but my gauntlet was ruined. "Sorry, it took me by surprise."

He sighed. "You really have to pay more attention. Although you've dealt with that bear pretty well."

_Bear?_ I wondered. "What bear?"

Ralof raised an eyebrow. "The bear you've killed under Helgen, of course."

"I killed a…sorry, I can't remember much." This would explain the ripped armour. And the many notches in that iron sword.

"It was pretty impressive till we got out of the cave and you suddenly started to tremble."

"Ah." We walked in silence for a few minutes until I asked: "Any other heroic deeds I might want to know about?"

I could hear the smile in Ralof's voice as he said: "Oh, you just set a few Imperials on fire. And to be honest, attacking a she-bear isn't heroic, it's idiotic and suicidal."

"Sorry."

When he stopped I halted as well. He looked into my eyes. "You _really_ have to stop apologizing for everything."

"Sor-" I interrupted myself.

Ralof chuckled and walked on. We passed through the woods filled with chirping birds and buzzing bees. Late summer hung in the air like the scent of flowers. At the crossroads we stopped again.

I didn't know what to say. My companion seemingly had similar problems.

"Well," I said, just to fill the silent void with words.

Suddenly Ralof gave me a rib-cracking embrace. "Good luck, shield-sister." His voice was muffled against my shoulder.

"And good luck to you, Ralof," I answered as soon as he let me go.

I watched as he vanished eastwards and I didn't know why I suddenly felt so sad.


End file.
